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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719541">Strike a Match Lit the Fire [Indefinite Hiatus Sorry]</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzingwhizzbee/pseuds/fizzingwhizzbee'>fizzingwhizzbee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Modern AU, Modern Era, Not sure what the hell I'm writing, Reincarnation, Starts off as if someones telling you stuff?, Tagging help pls, fem!Bilbo, i got bored at work, tags to come</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:41:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,794</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzingwhizzbee/pseuds/fizzingwhizzbee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Iris Baggins, author of the critically acclaimed books 'Dungeons Deep' and 'Caverns Old', and owner of the lovely country manor 'Bag End' which was nestled within the rolling hills of the Devonshire moors, was a normal, if slightly antisocial human being.<br/>«Withheld number:<br/>It's decided then, it'll be very good for you; and most amusing for me.<br/>Received 2:12pm»</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Strike a Match Lit the Fire [Indefinite Hiatus Sorry]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a work in progress and will probably be abandoned if I lose whatever plot I have currently forming. It's been a long time since I tried to write anything longer than a 100 word poem, so please bare with me. </p><p>Creative criticism is welcomed! If you see something I missed please let me know!<br/>Un-betaed (technically I bugged my mum into helping me)</p><p>Update 10/10/2020 - this story is undergoing editing... slowly and surely, I hope that I can actually continue on with it. Life has been a pain and my job and covid have ruined my mental health.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sometimes when we look at life, when we gaze out at the vast emptiness of space and wonder what could possibly be out there for us to see. To explore, to find; needlessly wishing for a brighter future.  A full future, because at this rate humanity will live a long and lonely lifespan. As humans, we wonder what it would be like to live someone else's life. </p><p>Or perhaps we wonder how it would be if each human indeed had their own set of lives. Almost like a cat, I suppose. Living through each century, born into someone new every time. A new life, new families, new loves and hates; friends gained, and friends lost, and a new way to die each time. Not quite cat like... those evil, thoughtless, furry, manic spiteful creatures. Now I know what you must be thinking: "reincarnation? Ha, that's just a modern pipe dream, people who are bored and unsatisfied in life, hoping that they won't just fade into the darkness of time when they close their eyes for the last time..." Oh, sorry, got a bit ahead of myself there. I seem to ramble when I get overly excited, you may find this out in a short while. </p><p>The knowledge that I would like to impart to you today my dear reader, is that everything in this universe, in this world, from the smallest, tiniest micro-organisms to the immortal beings of the Valar have a soul. Now souls are tricky things. When our creator Eru Illuvatar strummed the tune to bring souls in to being, let us just say he did not quite realise how stubborn and irritating they could be. (For all souls were born into the image of himself, no one tell him shh!). Never was this truer than with the souls of Thorin Oakenshield and Iris Baggins and the friendship that they made on that daft journey that lasted through the ages.</p><p>The battle had been horrific. Dead and dying lay as rain poured from the sky, dousing the blood-strewn battlefield turning it into a ruby red river.  A mixture of men, elves and dwarrow worked together to bring in the wounded to the hastily erected tents built on the site.  "My dear friend, I must ask your forgiveness." The last few words of Thorin Oakenshield resonated around the tent he had forcefully been placed in, warily eyeing the hobbitess as she stood to his side. Iris sighed, "Thorin, please rest, you must rest. Where are those blasted elves?!" She turned away, and stormed to the opening of the tent, "Guard! Find me a healer, now!" Iris turned on her heel and flounced back to the dying kings’ side. Silence reigned through the Royal's tent until words, unwelcome words frail but still seemingly full of life were uttered from the royal idiot rested on the cot. "Back, I take my words from the gate and new ones I would bestow upon you now! Dwarf-friend! Sister of Durin's Folk! Royal Burglar of Erebor! Royal Hobbi-" Thorin spluttered as a spare piece of cloth found itself lodged quite firmly in his mouth. </p><p>"Thorin enough! You have gone quite mad! Oin?! OIN?! Someone fetch a healer, the king has gone into shock!" At that instant, several dwarves and a few elves burst into the tent, including Oin and Balin. "Finally, someone's arrived!" She exclaimed albeit sarcastically. The tent became a rush of movement as people tended to the fallen but not yet defeated dwarf. "Er, lassie?" Balin called, giving Oin a glance at the same time, "Mayhap I ask, why does our king have cloth stuffed in his mouth when he is unable to remove it?" Iris shuddered, "Oh Balin, it's horrible, the things he's been saying. I fear he has gone quite mad, maybe a blow to the head? Should we look for a lump? No! Don't remove -" She flung her hand out at the dwarf guard who had accompanied Balin and Oin into the tent as he removed the cloth from the spluttering king. </p><p>"My king are you well?" Everyone watched Thorin as he seemed to be gathering thoughts from far unknown.  "Balin." He finally spoke, "Send out the message, the hobbit is no betrayer, no traitor." Balin grinned slightly under his beard and bowed, "Of course my lord, it will be done." As he turned to leave, Thorin spoke up once more, "She will be bestowed Dwarf-Friend! Sister of Durin's Folk! Royal Burglar of Erebor! Royal Hobbit! DurinsKeeper and DragonRiddler!" he paused as he ran out of ideas and breath, never minding the infuriated screaming of said hobbit as she had been forced out of the tent after leaping at the king as she had threatened death upon him once hearing the same titles bestowed upon her once again. This time in front of other people! Oh, the shame! "I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU THORIN OAKENSHIELD, AZOG DIDN'T TAKE YOU BUT I WILL IF YOU DON'T STOP!" Released from the bonds of a dwarven guards’ arms, she straightened the remains of her skirt, sneered at the people surrounding the tent and flounced off. Last words indeed, for the dwarven king never passed on to Mahal's Halls. He knew that should he have done so, Iris would never have been honoured with deed names and quite possibly cast out (and oh how he wanted to make her suffer for making him listen to her lecture 3 minutes after he had just woken up). Poor man could not even take a sword to the chest and not be lectured.  He had been lectured more times on this one trip than he had in 3 years by his sister who never seemed to shut up. Incidentally, he realised, she was not going to be happy. Maybe he should move back to the Shire with the hobbit, or Gondor? Maybe he could even go into deepest Harad and pretended to have always been there? Back to the hobbit. Lectures after lectures, it is a wonder that she ever managed to draw breath. He shuddered, drawing the concerned gazes of those gathered around him, the first time he had met the darned woman.</p><p>
  <em>Thorin stomped into the entry way of the smial looking around at his gathered company, the wizard and the small, large footed creature he knew to be a hobbit. He looked the hobbit lass, for she was a lass up and down and bit out "Hobbit, where is your husband?" The woman looked at him in shock and anger. "My husband?" She bit out, every syllable sounding like it had taken a marathon to run though and had scraped a knife across a dinner plate on the way. He growled lowly in his throat, far too low for the insignificant woman to hear. "Yes woman, the man who runs this house. Where is he?" Gandalf moved in between them as Iris puffed up like an angry kitten, lifting her hand upholding her frying pan. "Ah Thorin, this is the hobbit I wished for you to meet. Iris Baggins, your burglar." He looked her up and down once more and immediately dismissed her as unworthy. "Her? This is the reason you dragged us out this way into the Shire. The last member of my company that you wanted to collect?" He turned to look at the wizard and uttered the words that would be his undoing. "This woman looks more like home maker than a burglar. " He had barely gotten the last sound out of his mouth when he was brutally attacked by a raging hobbit lass wielding a heavy-duty iron frying pan, who seemed to have no qualms in attacking him with it. Him! A king! Being attacked by a creature more than a foot smaller than him. The audacity. "OW! Woman?! You dare attack me?! I am a king!" He shouted at her.</em><br/>
<em>"King!? KING! You're no king! You're an arsehole. You dwarves. You, you complete arrogant arseholes! YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE, MY SMIAL. WHERE I HAVE FED YOUR COMPANIONS WITHOUT BEING TOLD OF THEIR ARRIVAL WITH THE FOOD THAT I BOUGHT FOR MYSELF THAT WOULD HAVE LASTED A GOOD MONTH OR TWO HAD I SAVED IT. HAVING DECLINED GANDALF'S STUPID ADVENTURE THIS MORNING. ALL THE WHILE HAVING BEEN BULLIED AND SNEERED AT AND LAUGHED AT AND MADE TO FEEL INFERIOR AND TERRIFIED  IN MY OWN SMIAL. AND YOU DARE. YOU DARE COME INTO MY HOUSE AND... AND... AND...”</em><br/>
<em>Everyone held their breath as the rising crescendo of the angry hobbit lass rose and rose and rose, until it hit its final note which could have shattered glass if you believe that,  and instead of slowly lowering down to proper pitch, everyone flinched as it just dropped down to a flat, husky low that screamed anger even more than the high and piercing pitch that had been previously favoured.</em><br/>
<em>“Get out!"</em><br/>
<em>And promptly kicked all of them out brandishing nothing more than a frying pan! Even Gandalf the Grey was not spared a beating from the iron bowl shaped whip. There was a few dwarves or sorry dwarrow, for that is how they like to be known, who were amused by the goings on (still terrified, but very amused). One of these was a red haired three peaked dwarf who decided then and there, that this small, frying pan wielding, fear inducing hobbit female would be the best thing that ever happened to the company. (He was right, she was.)</em>
</p><p>"My king, are you alright?" Balin stepped over to him having returned into the tent, "you shuddered so hard I feared your soul was trying to depart this Middle-Earth." Thorin waved his hand in dismissal, "Aye Balin, but not for the reason you would be thinking, I merely had cast my memory back to when we had met our dear hobbit." Immediately every company member that had floated into the room shuddered so deeply that it shook the ground and caused multiple people to panic at the thought of an earthquake. Laughing from a corner where he had slunk inside, Nori cast his own mind back to that first meeting; when he had had the thought that Iris would be the best thing for the company. He was right, she had been. </p><p>But my dear readers, this is not where we begin our journey. We will not start here in Middle-Earth, nor shall we start it eons before the world was torn asunder. We shall start it anew. When men, elves, hobbits and dwarrow were reunited at the end of days. When Illuvatar finished his song and through him a new song started. A new world, where new lives began and this is where we shall start our journey.</p><p>And it all began with...</p><p> </p>
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